Page 4 of The One She Can't Forget

As much as Bryce and my mom tried to keep me calm, the truth was the last thing I remembered was baking my pie for Thanksgiving dinner. Yet outside my hospital window, the sun was shining, and the leaves were filled with green. Some of the dogwoods were even blooming.

It didn’t make sense.

I let the silence fill the room for a few minutes, then I asked softly, “What is today, Mom?”

“It doesn’t matter, honey. All that matters is that you’re okay.”

I shook my head and pleaded, “Mom, please. I need to know.”

I could see how much she hated telling me the truth. It was written all over her face. But she squeezed my hand and whispered, “It’s May 9th.”

Six months. Somehow, I had been knocked unconscious and lost six months in the blink of an eye.

I felt the telltale burning ache of tears in my throat and stinging in my eyes. I shook my head. “No.” The word came out a cracked groan of despair.

Despite the reassurances of the nurse and the doctor, once the initial confusion and anxiety passed, my other memories didn’t return.

The following three days in the hospital passed smoothly. Nurses don’t make very good patients in any circumstances, but especially not when so much was unsettled. I was mostly back to my normal self, other than not knowing why it was May when it should be November. My mom stopped answering my questions about the memories, probably because each one upset me more.

I was eager to be discharged, but the doctor wanted to do one last MRI and interview. She asked me all of the same questions I still hadn’t been able to answer myself.

What day was it? November 22.

What was the last thing I remembered? Baking a pumpkin pie for Friendsgiving at the Pike’s house.

Did I remember the accident? Not even a glimpse.

With each of her questions, my despair grew. I stared at Dr. Patel in disbelief. “What do you mean I might not remember?”

She spoke gently, “All I’m saying is that we really don’t know. Head injuries are still a mystery.”

I knew bedside manner well enough to know when I was being placated.

She continued, “You could remember everything in the next few hours or days as the swelling in your brain continues to go down. Your MRI is improving, but there is still significant swelling. But you may never regain those memories. All I can tell you is that focusing on the lost memories will only agitate you and slow down your physical recovery.”

“So what? I’m just supposed to ignore the fact that I can’t remember the last six months of my life?” I was practically yelling at the intimidating woman, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. This was my life we were talking about.

“You’ve had a very tremendous trauma, Monica. Try to focus on the good things. You survived. You don’t have any lasting paralysis or injury. That is a gift. Let’s just take the rest one day at a time.”

I pulled my lips to one side, swallowing my disappointment. I knew Dr. Patel had good intentions. I also knew she was a wonderful doctor. It didn’t make accepting her words any easier.

In some ways, it felt like it was silly to be upset about the lost memories. Rationally, I knew that in light of everything, it was pretty minor. I could’ve lost my entire life. Instead, it seemed I had forgotten only six months. Like someone had removed the specific hard drive.

Everything else was fine. I remembered who I was. I remembered my way around Minden. As long as someone had been in my life longer than six months, I remembered them too.

Mom and Dad insisted that I come home with them instead of going back to my apartment. Despite the severity of the accident, I had nothing more than a few follow-up MRIs scheduled and a lot of bruises and aches. It felt like I discovered new ones every time I moved, but slowly, I was feeling more and more like myself.

I was so tired of being interrupted by nurses and doctors. The irony of my being irritated by the nursing staff wasn’t lost on Bryce, who smiled every time I rolled my eyes at something they said. Being discharged from the hospital was a huge relief.

Mom and Dad drove me straight home. I walked through my parents’ house, relief filling me when things were exactly how I remembered. Other than the balloons and flowers that had already been moved from my hospital room to the kitchen table, everything was just the same. For once, it felt like a good thing that Mom and Dad weren’t much for change.

My eyes trailed across the room and landed on a large framed photo on the mantle. It was our whole family, dressed up in coordinating clothing. It was obviously a professional shot. I couldn’t be sure, but it looked like maybe we were at Bloom’s Farm. There was snow on the ground, but it was a sunny day.

I didn’t remember ever having photos taken of us as a family. At least not since Bryce and I were kids. Mom had said something just a couple weeks ago about it. Or I guess not a couple of weeks. Six months.

I turned to look at Mom and found her watching me with a guarded expression. She was probably waiting to see if it would freak me out. I hadn’t exactly handled the reminders of my memory loss well in the hospital.

“When?” I asked in a choked whisper.

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